Never Lasting
by Crysie
Summary: Yamato found love young, but are you able to fall in love again after that? Osmato (Osamu/Yamato) and slight reference to Kenato. For Cynthia's Really Weird Couples Contest


Disclaimer: wishing I owned digimon... still... still...  
  
This fic is for Cynthia's Really Weird Couples Contest. I didn't think I could, but finally, 3 days before the contest ends I decided to write this. I don't really believe in the coupling I used, but I must say, I had much fun writing this because I don't get many chances to write odd couples. This is Osamu/Yamato fic. How would you say that? Osmato/Yamu?   
  
Anyway, enjoy that fic ^_^  
  
  
Never Lasting  
by Sapphire Goddess  
  
  
A candle flickered continuously at a steady state for many hours, showing no mercy in letting up. In that flicker contained trust, hope and love, all of which were not present in the blue eyed blonde sitting on the couch.  
  
A torn scrapbook lay in his arms, but the eyes that belonged to him weren't focused on it anymore. Instead, they stared endlessly into the dust stained carpet, blinking ever few moments.  
  
Love had never come easy to Yamato, and even when it was there, it was hard to accept. It had been like that with all his past boyfriends and girlfriends. There were almost too many to count: Taichi, Sora, Koushiro, Daisuke and the list wore on, including many one night stands with both people he knew and others he didn't.   
  
Some say that love only comes once in your life, and Yamato found no problem agreeing with that. His life was an endless tumbleweed through relationships, each ending because he couldn't commit; each ending because he wasn't in love.  
  
There was a love once, a love that captured his breath and stole his heart from the moment they met. Yamato believed that fate played its card in their meeting because how else could you describe it?  
  
**FLASHBACK**  
  
The shouts from next door caused Yamato to wince; he always hated when his parents fought. He carefully moved the sleeping form of Takeru's legs off his own and slowly stood up. Even though they shared a room, Takeru didn't like to sleep alone when their parents fought. They fought every night.  
  
Tip-toeing quietly across the room, he settled himself on the cement outside of his room, on the balcony. Minutes passed and Yamato was still staring at the city below him, watching as occasional couples walked by. He was even surprised to see teenagers smoking. Teenagers! His mind wandered to an image of himself smoking, trying to imagine if he were fifteen, not seven. His fingers rose to his lips where he trailed his index finger over the curve and bump of the red tissue.  
  
When he awoke from the trance he was in, he found himself staring back down on the dark streets below him, wishing on a star that he and TK had different parents, or at least, their own wouldn't fight any longer. A small movement at the corner down the street caught his eyes and he wasted no time looking at it. He was a bit taken aback when he saw a boy –– maybe a year or so older than himself –– walking casually down the street. His mind raced with ideas as why this could be and he found himself with an urge to see him.  
  
The boy kept walking down the street, almost directly below Yamato. Meanwhile, the blonde was anticipating for him to come, getting ready to whisper loudly to him.  
  
Psst. You, he whispered, but trying to make his voice as loud as possible.  
  
The raven haired boy didn't notice him at first and kept walking his destination, so Yamato tried again. Still, nothing. He sighed, really wanting to get this boy's attention, and yet, he wondered to himself why he did. He didn't even know this kid and the fact that he was older than him could cause it to turn ugly. Than again, that was what was so erotic about it: this boy who was just a bit older than him was wondering the streets at night with no adults.  
  
A red bouncing ball that Takeru had been playing with that day caught Yamato's attention and he quickly scrambled up, reaching for the ball. It was a light-air filled ball that wouldn't cause any pain to the boy. With that, he stretched his arm over the railing, aiming through the white bars of the balcony. Steady... one... two... three... He chucked the ball as hard as he could, only, it didn't go as far as he hoped and landed behind the boy.  
  
_Darn! Why can't I be as good of a thrower as Takeru?  
  
_He was surprised though, when the dark haired boy suddenly turned around, eying the ball suspiciously. Yamato held his breath, feeling both anxious and anticipating the boy spotting him. And he did spot him. The boy did not speak, only waved his hand for Yamato to come to him.   
  
Yamato wasn't sure why, but he felt like a bee attracted to honey at the moment, an urge to go see the boy. He spotted the fire escape stairs to his right and carefully climbed down them, his hand gliding down silently on the cold rail. The feeling of it all was exotic, for he had never wandered into the night by himself before. Heck, he was hardly ever out this late, the only times was when he was with his family returning from some sort of party or the odd time where his father got angry enough to pack up and take Yamato with him, though they'd always return home by morning.  
  
Once he was on main ground, in the alley due to the stairs leading that way, he cautiously made his way around the corner towards the boy who was waiting patiently for him. Shyly he stood, stopping about a foot away from him.  
  
What's your name? he asked.  
  
Ishida Yamato.  
  
Nice name. That name's gonna get you somewhere, kid.  
  
_Kid? Why is he calling me a kid if he doesn't look much older than me?  
  
_So what's the big idea of trying to throw this ball at me?  
  
I–I'm sorry, Yamato stuttered. He felt so small to this boy; like a small animal ––insect if you will–– to the boy.  
  
He chuckled, spinning the ball on his finger. Kid, you're all right.  
  
How old are you?  
  
The question is: how old are _you_? he countered, still spinning the ball on his finger.  
  
_Stop stuttering! He's gonna think you're a little kid!  
  
_You're pretty young to be up this late watching people through your balcony window.  
  
I couldn't sleep.  
  
How come?  
  
My parents are fighting, Yamato said, watching as the boy held the ball and sat on the curb.  
  
He patted the curb, motioning Yamato to sit next to him, which is what the blonde did. They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts; that is, until Matt got the courage to ask another question.  
  
What's your name?  
  
Ichijuoji Osamu. Yes, I'm the genius, he said in a monotone voice, the words coming out in a stream, making it sound as if a robot had said it.  
  
Yamato blinked.   
  
This time Osamu blinked. He turned to the blonde, smiling. Sorry. I say it so often that it's just automatic when I'm asked.  
  
Yamato giggled, starting to like this boy very much. He never met someone so... cool, that was the word. He didn't seem to be afraid to do his own thing, which interested him.  
  
How old are you?  
  
he replied.   
  
Where do you live? I haven't seen you around here much.  
  
That's because I don't live anywhere near here.  
  
Oh. How come you are far away from home? The only time I ever go far away from home is when Dad gets mad enough at Mommy that he packs me up and we go driving around all over the city.  
  
Osamu held back a snicker, but frowned at the sadness in the boy's eyes. His family was considered, well, perfect and seeing this boy younger than himself with family problems was difficult.  
  
Wanna play catch?  
  
Catch? At this time? Yamato glanced up, looking at his apartments. Well, I guess they are still fighting.  
  
The pair stood up and and stood a few feet away, getting ready to play some old fashioned catch. Osamu gently threw the ball to Yamato, and he scrambled to his left, but missed catching it.  
  
I've never been good at play sports. My little brother, Takeru, is even better than me, he said sheepishly.  
  
Osamu smiled and laughed. S'okay. Now run along and get it.  
  
Yamato turned around and went to fetch the ball, spotting it roll slowly down the sidewalk. He picked it up and when he turned around, Osamu was gone. A frown fell upon his face and he dropped the ball, not wanting to go home.  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
The sapphire eyes still stared at the carpet, grazed with the similar tears he had the same night he met Osamu. That hadn't been the only time they had met. There were several more occasions.  
  
The candle still burned.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
Life had gone on for Yamato, which lead him through more family problems and eventually ending the marriage his parents had. It had been over six months since he saw Osamu and almost a month since Takeru and him were split apart.   
  
Sighing, the lonely blonde sat on his bed, taking a look at the picture frame of him and Takeru. His little brother was sitting on a swing, holding onto the rope. Yamato stood behind him, his hands over his brothers; both were smiling happily.  
  
A few hours later his father took him out to get some ice cream, something his father had been doing a lot lately in attempt to help Yamato deal in the divorce easier. Only, it didn't work too well consider his father went to work a lot of hours and he required a babysitter to come over.   
  
Within the first month, Yamato had four different babysitters. The first one was an old lady across from the apartment downstairs. She didn't last because she kept falling asleep and Yamato almost burned himself when he attempted to make his own lunch. The next one was a teenage girl from the apartment across the hall. Her mistake was trying to put Yamato to bed at seven o'clock and invite her boyfriend over. Third was a woman downstairs with three children. Plainly, she just couldn't handle looking after Yamato, especially since her eldest son was the same age and the pair didn't get along.   
  
Number four was ready to crack; Yamato felt it in his bones. He went out of his way to make this woman stressed out because he didn't want a babysitter. He figured that if he could make all the babysitters go away, that his mother would be forced to move back in with him and his father. Then they'd be a happy family all over again.  
  
Yamato? Where are you?  
  
Yamato crossed his arms as Synchi came into the room with a bottle of bubbles, suggesting the bath tub.   
  
Your father asked me to give you a bath. Now please be a good boy and come with me, she said, her voice quivering a bit as she outstretched her hand.  
  
You're not my mommy. You can't make me do anything.  
  
It was a struggle between the two, ending with her frustrated and leaving the room. He shrugged it off and went to his balcony, staring at the view below. Though now, the view wasn't the same, and even though he hadn't been the one to move out, it was like he was looking at a different view than before.   
  
He stayed there until his father shook him gently, causing him to look up.  
  
Yamato, now I don't have a babysitter for you.  
  
Synchi quit?  
  
Yes. Unfortunately. Oh Yamato, I don't know what to do with you anymore.  
  
Maybe Mom can look after me again.  
  
She's working now.  
  
He turned his attention back to the world below, simply staring as his father stared at him. A familiar person walked down the street, a familiar person that made Yamato leap up and start calling his name.  
  
Who on earth is that?  
  
Yamato ignored him, rushing through the apartment and to the door. He flung it open and ran downstairs, ignoring the calls of his father. Outside he ran happily to Osamu, smiling as he approached the old boy.  
  
Hey Kiddo.  
  
How come you left that night? Where did you go? demanded Yamato, turning the smile he once had to a frown.  
  
It was late. My parents were wondering where i was.  
  
How come you were out anyway?  
  
Ran away.  
  
Ran away? How come? The idea stuck in Yamato's mind. The very thought of running away seemed to light a spark of hope in his mind, and he decided to keep that thought in mind.  
  
Yamato. Who is this?  
  
He turned around to find his father standing behind him with a questionable look on his face. An idea suddenly popped into Yamato's head.  
  
He can be my babysitter!  
  
Excuse me?  
  
Yes, Osamu. You can come over everyday after school and look after me. And when daddy goes to work on weekends, you can come over. Please!  
  
Osamu looked up, looking into the eyes of Yamato's father.   
  
Well, Yamato seems to like you. You seem a bit young, though. I'd like to know who you are and we can talk about that later. How about it?  
  
Osamu looked at Yamato in the eyes, a small smile creeping on his eyes.   
  
**End Flashback**  
  
It's ironic that the word sure' can mean so much, almost more than I love you' at times. The next few months were some of the happiest in his life. The routine of Osamu picking him up after school (his school was in the next district, but only a ten minute subway ride) and taking him home was at ease.  
  
Sometimes Osamu would read to him books about science, which puzzled Yamato to why someone would want to read about school materials while not in school. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the attention of being read to. Other times, he brought things to show him. Yamato will never forget the time Osamu brought the bubble mix; it was one of the best day of his life.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
He always looked so tidy to Yamato. From the way he kept his hair perfectly spiked to the way his bag sat perfectly across his shoulder, it all seemed so perfect. He liked to watch Osamu as he walked and they were almost always silent, but once they got back to Yamato's apartment, it was if something awoke in the both of them.  
  
When they got home, Osamu silently began pulling a few things out of his bag. Curiously, Yamato sat on a chair at the kitchen table, watching him with a profound interest. Osamu began mixing a few things together, squirting some soap into a small dish and stirring it.  
  
What are you making?  
  
The same thing I make for my brother, Kiddo.  
  
Yamato had gotten used to the nickname, not bothered by it any longer. He continued arranging everything, pulling out a straw and pair of scissors. Small slits were made on the end of one side of the straw and the other side he blew through, his finger on the opposite end. When he wiggled his finger from the air, he pulled the straw away from his mouth, turning to Yamato.  
  
All ready. Let's go onto the balcony in your room. Here, you take the straw.  
  
Yamato took the straw and followed Osamu to his bedroom and onto the balcony. He peered over the edge, finally feeling that the view was once familiar again; the first time since Takeru had moved out.  
  
Osamu quickly showed Yamato how to blow bubbles through the straw and for hours he stood on his tip-toes and blew through the straw.   
  
And like all things, it ends.  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
It never occurred to him how precious Osamu was to him, for all he could see was a role model, almost similar to how Daisuke felt towards Taichi. Yamato wanted nothing more than to be like Osamu at the time, but as he grew older, he realized some things were never meant to be, and others were.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
Yamato was eleven now, already back from the Digital World. He held back all urges to tell Osamu exactly what happened because he felt that he may be looked down upon. It was just a feeling he had.  
  
Now when the two got together, it wasn't because Osamu was babysitting him, but because they were friends. It was one day that he realized that maybe he should stop trying to be exactly Osamu, and that was only because of something he was taught that day.  
  
They planned to rent a set of anime movies to watch during the evening. Yamato's father was working all night and he didn't want him to feel lonely, so he told him to invite Osamu over.   
  
For the next two hours they watched various anime movies in their boxers and shirts, settled comfortably on the floor surrounded by pillows and blankets. They were silent through the movie, it was the kind of friendship they had, more of a friendship to not be lonely than to gossip and chat. It's what they were each comfortable with.  
  
That night, there was something bugging Yamato. His mind was screaming to confess, which he finally did after the second movie was over.  
  
Do you remember when I was younger? When I first met you?  
  
  
  
I wanted to be just like you; in every possible way.  
  
How could I forget that, _Kiddo_?  
  
He wasn't sure why, but he suddenly picked up the nearest pillow and hit Osamu's head with it. Never in his life was he so affectionate with someone in the sense that he would start playing with him. At first, Osamu went rigged, staring curiously at the blonde who had a confused look. Grabbing the nearest pillow as well, Osamu hit Yamato over the head, and a small rally began.  
  
Yamato was pinned easily under Osamu, receiving soft beatings with the pillow. He stopped suddenly and Yamato was aware of everything that was going on: how his stomach had a sensual feeling in it, how he could feel Osamu's eyes on his face, and how his hands were now holding Osama's sides.  
  
You know, Kiddo, I wouldn't want you like me at all.  
  
How come?  
  
A soft kiss on his lips became the answer, only to break very quickly. They never said anything after that, both sitting up. After a few minutes, it was a silent agreement to watch the movies again. Though this time, Yamato sat between Osamu's legs, leaning comfortably back into his chest, never in his life feeling so content,  
  
Though still, like all good things, they must come to and end.  
  
**  
  
It was the next morning when Osamu and Yamato were walking quietly down the streets, both content with the silence. They took the train to Tamachi and after walking Osamu to his apartment, he had planned to take the train to see Takeru. Only, things didn't go how they planned it.  
  
There's my brother, Osamu stated, gazing across the street towards his apartment.  
  
Yamato didn't say anything and smiled as Osamu began walking across the street. He was about to turn around when something caught his eye, though there wasn't anything to be done. A painful yelp and the screeching of brakes sent the young boy across the street screaming onto the street, crying his older brother's name. Yamato shook his head and ran, trying his best to hold back tears.  
  
And not one has fallen yet.  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
The doorbell rang, bringing Yamato out of his thoughts. He shut the torn scrapbook that was known as his journal, also shutting that piece of his life out. The candle went out when the pages pressed together, though Yamato didn't notice, instead standing up. Opening the door, he found himself staring at a dark raven haired boy.  
  
Hello Yamato.  
  
He stepped in, kissing Yamato softly on the lips. There was a certain guilt that lay in Yamato's mind, but it was the only way he could feel part of Osuma's heart, and that was to the raven haired boy who fell in love with him. And did he love Ken? No. No, he did not. His heart belonged to Osamu and always would, even if Ken never knew it. In his mind, he was with Osamu, not Ken.  
  
THE END  



End file.
